


I Will Storm the Battlements

by owltype



Series: Hope for the Hopeless [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9946289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: James had taken so much from Tony, but the whole world had been taken from James and he had been reborn into pain and darkness. Tony can’t hate him for that. Tony will keep him from ever feeling that again.“I will save you,” Tony promises.





	

Tony can’t sleep.

Steve is solid and warm behind him, his arm a comforting weight draped over Tony’s waist, his hand clamped around Tony’s ribcage and his fingers splayed in the furrows between bone and skin like they were fated to rest there. Steve’s breath tickles the back of Tony’s neck and ruffles his hair, sending gooseflesh rippling across his skin and a shiver down his spine. Beyond the window, the shining stars twinkling above the dark Wakanda forest lends to this moment a sense of whimsy and magic, like Tony is living in a dream, or that his wildest dreams had come true.

And yet, Tony can’t sleep. Maybe it’s because this is his last night with Steve before he has to return to New York and he’s trying to soak up every last moment of peace before delving back into the chaos that has been his life since Afghanistan. But Tony’s isn’t positive that’s what he’s feeling. Though he is loathe to leave Steve, he’s also eager to get back to work, to hit the Accords with renewed fervor and get his friends their lives back.

Tony is restless in a way he doesn’t understand. There’s something niggling at his mind, some small echo of the conversation he and Steve had had earlier. At the time, he hadn’t paid too much attention to it, as he’d been more focused on the emotions of the moment rather than the actual words Steve was saying. But now, he’s being haunted by them.

As carefully and as quietly as he can, Tony slides out from Steve’s hold, the drag of Steve’s fingertips along his spine a pleasurable torture. He almost doubles back, thinking he can sate his curiosity in the morning, but he knows if he doesn’t do this now, he won’t ever get some rest. Tony wraps a robe around himself and with one last, lingering look at Steve, leaves the room and makes his way to the medical ward of T’Challa’s palace.

Fortunately, he doesn’t pass anyone in the corridors. He doesn’t think he’d be met with much resistance, but he’d prefer to avoid detection. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anybody or have this getting back to Steve.

Tony slips silently through the doors, FRIDAY easing his way so as not to alert anybody to his presence. Tony takes a quick look around, relieved to see he’s alone in the room, then slowly makes his way toward the glow of the cryogenic chamber tucked away in a remote corner of the room. There’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach, not unlike fear, and it only intensifies as he catches a glimpse of dark hair and strong, rugged features.

James Buchanan Barnes rests peacefully in his cold bed. The last time Tony had seen him, he’d been beaten and bloody. Now, he looks almost like a porcelain doll, like if Tony touched him too hard he’d shatter into a million pieces.

The strength leaves Tony’s legs and he thumps to the floor, his nose not two inches from the glass. He’s close enough to touch and he does so with trembling fingers.

“You took so much from me,” he whispers, his breath fogging the glass and hiding from Tony’s sight the missing left hand that should mirror his own. “I should hate you. I _want_ to hate you. But I can’t.”

Tony forces himself to look into James’ face, searching for any trace of the man Howard had talked about almost as much as he had talked about Steve. That smiling man with the bright eyes and glib tongue had been whittled down and remade into this weapon, almost unrecognizable from the pictures Howard had kept locked in his desk—but at the corners of his mouth Tony can see the ghost of old laugh lines, and it’s not hard to picture the way James’ lips would curl up a little in a devilish smile that would woo anybody.

James had taken so much from Tony, but the whole world had been taken from James and he had been reborn into pain and darkness. Tony can’t hate him for that. Tony will keep him from ever feeling that again.

“I will save you,” Tony promises.

Tony is startled almost into a panic by the hand that settles in his hair and grips tightly. Blunt fingernails rake over the crown of his skull and down the back of his neck, and Tony leans into the touch once he realizes who it is behind him. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to get away unnoticed, but he’s glad Steve is here now.

“Tony.” Steve's voice is heavy with the weight of sleep and confusion. He settles next to Tony on the floor and looks at him searchingly but not without trust. “What are you doing here?”

Tony takes Steve’s hand in his and kisses each fingertip. “Please don’t be angry,” he says against Steve’s skin. “I had to see for myself. I had to-”

Steve presses his fingers against Tony’s mouth, shushing him gently. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Tony’s temple, all of his love and acceptance of Tony’s unspoken apology expressed in that one little gesture. Tony presses his forehead against Steve’s and closes his eyes, and begins to whisper promises into the space between them, on some level hoping they will also reach James’ ears and bring him some comfort, too.

Yes, he will save this man. He will do it for his father who died thinking an old friend had come back from the dead to punish him. He will do it for Steve who had lost this man too many times already to ever let go of him again, not without going with him. He will do it for himself, for his own selfish reasons. But mostly, he will do it for James--for Bucky. He will break the chains of slavery from his shoulders and give him back his peace of mind. Give him back his freedom.

Too long have they hurt. Too long have they suffered. Tony will make things right and they will be happy again. This he promises to Steve.

Steve lets him finish without interruption, waits for Tony’s words to trail off into silence then gently, oh so gently, cradles Tony’s jaw in his hands and lifts his head until Tony is forced to drown in watery blue irises.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve says warmly, reverently. “You are so good, Tony, and I thank you for this gift. But you don’t have to do it yourself. Let me help you. Let T’Challa help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Steve leans forward to seal his own promises with a kiss. Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and melts into his touch, presses closer against him as he’s swept away in a tide of love and gratitude. He groans when Steve’s hold cinches tighter around him then squawks as he’s unceremoniously lifted into a bridal hold and swept out of the room.

Tony crosses his arms across his chest and glares up at Steve’s sharp jawline. “Way to ruin the moment, Rogers.”

Steve laughs and hugs him closer, squashing Tony’s face against his collarbone. “It’s for your own good,” he explains as he drops Tony on the bed and pulls the blanket up to climb in behind him.

Tony is asleep within minutes.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Alternate Ending** as told by my friend:
> 
> Steve leans forward to seal his own promises with a kiss. Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and melts into his touch, presses closer against him as he’s swept away in a tide of love and gratitude. He groans when Steve’s hold cinches tighter around him.
> 
> Suddenly, a Brooklyn-laced voice speaks up beside them. "Do you assholes mind? I'm tryin' to cyrosleep here!"


End file.
